After leaving Magical Menagerie, the Grangers had gone for lunch at a spot recommended by the Professor, somewhere quieter than the Leaky Cauldron and a tad more discerning about its clientele; Hermione noted the judgement in her tone, which matched her impression of the stern witch. She had explained that the average fare in the wizarding world was of a higher quality than in the Muggle world, as magic was used instead of manual labour to ensure it was consistent. What was left unsaid, however, was food made with different ingredients. She surmised that the Wix had access to magical creatures, so it stood to reason different dishes were available.

  She was enjoying a rose tea that the cafe, Petal & Phial, had on its rather extensive menu when she realised her mother was talking to her. "...provide any guidance for Muggle-born students?"

  Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "It does seem strange that this was not something assembled by one of the shops; it is either a missed sales opportunity or there is some underlying issue, for one would expect the so-called Best School in the Country to have produced such guidance, which, from what I was able to determine in Flourish and Blotts, is technically accurate only by virtue of there being no other schools." This was concerning for a number of reasons, the obvious being the deliberate classism meant to make her stand out, a deliberate attempt perhaps to make Muggle-borns obvious so they stand out and allow alienation through subtlety? Considering the government was made up, primarily by Slytherins, it would make sense, a means to help retain power within the aristocratic system they seemed to operate on.

  Or perhaps, it was simply an omission. Perhaps because they were from the inside looking out, they did not see the problems faced by Muggle-borns and thus, a solution was never proposed because they simply did not know there was a problem, which considering the state of Muggle Studies mentioned in the books seemed just as likely a cause, however assuming it was all or nothing was naive and it was more like a combination of the two and other factors.

  Perhaps, it simply came down to money? How many Muggle-borns actually were there each year; if the number was low, then there would be no financial incentive to educate the Muggle-borns and if there was no monetary gain for business owners, then it was even less likely to be a politically energised topic to necessitate action or a department. As Elena, she had done her fair share of wining and dining investors for her research, and if she had learnt one thing from her time then it was, to follow the money, and how controlled the Wizarding Worlds Finances? Gringotts.

  "Mum, I think it might be worth enquiring further at Gringotts, if there is profit to be made in helping Muggle-borns, then I imagine the Goblins would be involved, simply because they seem far too shrewd to allow an opporttunity to make money slip by them. I imagine however that the low number of Muggle-borns may mean there simply isn't any help outside of anecdotal information from peers."

  She watch as her mother turned a puzzled look to her daughter "Why do you think there are low numbers of Muggleborns?"

  Hermione looked back challengingly "I find it hard to believe that a single professor does all the Muggle-born visits, in a country with only 1 school, if the numbers were any higher than a handful, which we know to be the case because if the task required multiple people, then she would have sent them when the term has already started instead of taking time out of her teaching schedule to come here today."

  Her mother nodded, leaving the question unanswered. It seemed as though a lot of information had been omitted from their initial visit from Professor McGonagall and her mother was likely to be having a pointed conversation with her later.

  They made their way back to Gringotts after finishing their tea, Hermione nodded at the guard whom she had been staring at before, which seemed to surprise the guard. It was time to test a theory she had seen online about how the Wix treated Goblins.

  They approached a free teller in the bank, Hermione looked for a name plaque of tag but only their title was displayed. Interesting. Hermione cleared her throat. "Excuse

  me Teller Goblin, we were wondering if there might be any resources

  available for Muggle-borns to help them acclimate to the

  wizarding world?"

  The goblin looked up from his ledger, his eyes narrowing as he

  assessed them. "And why, would you assume Gringotts would pick up the short comings of your government?"

  Hermione hadn't expected... resistance at the question, but just this action answered more questions than she expected. "The only thing I assume, are the few things guaranteed to all sentient life. Death and taxes. We have discovered in our short time visiting the 'magical world', which we were introduced to as the 'Wizarding World' that we have been given a rather flowery version of this world. The only way to discern the truth for the reeds, is to get opposing opinions from multiple sources to come to a judgement. Gringotts is uniquely placed to provide such a service, if someone was to actually offer one, and if not? Nothing ventured nothing gained." She pauses and adds "Plus, I am a fan of sharp blades, I find it hard to believe anyone who could fashion such finery as those your guards wield to give me a less honest opinion than the Wix we have met so far."

  The latter comment was risky, but from what she had gleamed from the Guards at the front, they had enjoyed her staring at their weapons and armour, so it stood to reason they were proud of these, not to mention how they defended the rights of such works.

  The teller was quiet for a few moments, judging her words. She wondered if they were Fae-kin, some of the fantasy books she had read over the years depicted them as such which would make them especially good at detecting lies and trickery, which would explain why they were trusted to look after the Wix's gold despite all their wars against one another.

  He huffed before giving her a smirk "Heh at least you're not as stupid as the majority of your kind we deal with here. No we do not have a 'Muggle-born' pack for you, nor do we know of another. It is simply not worth our time to make one. However, as you have been courteous,, we shall extend the same to you, there is a book you can obtain from the second hand book store, which will give you the majority of what you seek, however it is a few centuries old. Not that your society has advanced much since then."

  She took the directions from the teller and bid him a good day, she was unsure whether they were Fae-kin, however it was best not to give or offer something until she knew more. She hadn't anticipated this before she came into the bank and now realised that this world may be more dangerous than initially anticipated.

  The next few days at home passed with relative ease, her parents had kept her in school, despite having already shown she was far beyond where they thought she was academically, the previous Hermione had been smart, but she wasn't skipping years ahead in anything but perhaps Math, that however did not mean it was without reward. She hadn't meant to let the rant spill out of her to her mother in the book shop, she hadn't even realised she felt that way. No, those feelings had belonged to the old Hermione, but they were her feelings now, and she planned to make it right, she owed it to the girl whose life she had taken over.

  She wanted to teach the bullies who had made her life a misery a lesson, let them learn that there will be for actions and see if they become better people for it, and if not? Then when she meets the original Hermione in the 'next great adventure' she could at least tell her she had put some dirt in his eye. There was no point going after the gofers, no she needed to go after the Ring Leader, the one who had called her 'The Smart Freak'.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Now normally, Elena would advocate for using words and negotiation, however children, were difficult. You could reason with an adult, but children? That didn't really work so well, they were designed to push boundaries until they pushed back, until they were punished for their actions to learn what the limits were. Well, they were about to find out.

  Oh she wasn't going to be malicious about it, but she'd make sure they had no way out of the punishment, she positioned herself on the playground instead of sequestering herself away in the Library like she had used to, she wanted the confrontation and she made sure that to do so, their backs had to be towards the teacher who was on duty. She had dropped some subtle hints earlier that she was scared of something, it should be enough breadcrumbs for the teacher to piece together a bullying problem, this along with her position on the playground in clear line of sight should be sufficient and if not? Well, she could still throw some dirt. ? Yes, but sometimes that was needed. Now to ignite the powder keg that was Tyson.

  "Ha, the swots out of the library! Why aren't you in there?" Tyson started

  Billy chirped in at this point, in his excitement to fit in and kiss his bosses backside raised his voice "Ha, maybe even the books didn't want to be her friend and they kicked her out!" the three of them laughed at the joke. Rather pathetic, but Billy's voice had attracted the teachers attention and she was moving closer.

  She stands up to leave, this should make them try to stop me and get more aggressive to see a reaction from me, all bully's want a reaction and I'm not giving them one, not 'yet'.

  Tyson looked irritated that she had ignored him, excellent. "Where are you going you Freak! I'm talking to you!" she continued to ignore him and tried to squeeze past to escape making herself look meek, and in doing so he, he shoved her. Now, the shove wasn't enough to do anything, but she exaggerated the fall, cutting and grazing her knees in the process and cried out in pain, she had to make it real enough to sell it.

  "What is going on Here, Tyson, why are you hitting people! Do we need to tell your mother?" A shrill voice shouted across the playground, although much closer than it had been before. Miss Prescott's eyes turned to Hermione and widened when she saw the blood "Oh my, Hermione are you ok? Lets get you inside and get this cleaned up" she turned to the three boys and yelled at them, ah how she missed the 90's education system "Get inside now. You are going to be writing lines about not hitting or shoving people, and we will be calling your parents. Take a good look at what you've done to her?! You're twice her size and you there were three of you! We do not condone this type of behaviour here and there will be consequences."

  All while the teacher was giving them a public dressing down, Hermione stared at Tyson, and as she caught his attention, she gave him a small smile as she stopped crying. She wanted him to know she had done this, that she held power over him, that she could make him suffer just like had made Hermione suffer! And before he could react she went back to her 'performance'. Oh and the look of shock on his face was delicious.

  However, Hermione had miscalculated. "lets get you inside Hermione, we'll need to call your father and let him know to come pick you up." Her dad? Oh no, he would be livid and... wait did she actually care if he was livid with Tyson and yelled at his Dad? her satisfaction dimmed slightly, however Tyson's face had gone pale, so she chalked it up as a success.

  Her father had pulled her out of school, he had her sit some end of year placement tests, which she crushed, obviously. This gave her the opportunity to read the books they had gotten from Diagon Alley, something that actually held her attention and not the acute boredom primary school education had held for her, she had not been looking forward to being stuck there for a year. Magic, worked in a very simple manner, in fact almost all magic according to this theory book, explained that Words and wand movements were training wheels to help you guide the spell and layer it with intent by binding it to a word; it worked a lot like Apparition did, although not quite as simple. When you cast a spell, your body would learn the feel of the spell through repetition, much like muscle memory, and once it was learnt you would no longer need the wand movements or the words to guide the shape or flow of magic, you could just grasp on to the feeling instead. This however meant you needed to do this for every spell, which seemed a tad laborious.

  The occlumency book was both essential and hysterical to read, she could really appreciate the satire with which the writer wove together to insult the reader, she wondered if she had missed any other instances of this, such as a Harry Potter fanfiction she may have read and glossed over it without realising. Regardless, the book assuaged her worries by helping her prepare herself, and she had a year before she had to have at least rudimentary shields. Not to mention her concerns

  about how Lockhart would behave in her 2nd year; some of the

  fanfics she read demonstrated him as a womanizer who obliviated their

  memories, in a school she was very eager to protect her mind, although

  she wasn’t sure if it would work against the spell as she didn’t know

  how it removed memories.

  She started with simple visualization techniques, imagining her mind

  as a vast, impenetrable fortress. Each brick she laid in her mental

  walls was a step toward strengthening her defences. The process was slow

  and painstaking, but Hermione's determination never wavered, because she had confirmed in the book the benefits of doing so. Better Memory retention. Who wouldn't want something that made learning anything easier and simpler?

  As she delved deeper into the book, Hermione began to experience

  flashes of her old life; vivid, disjointed memories that surfaced

  unexpectedly. She saw herself in her previous world, sitting in a

  classroom, laughing with friends, and living a life that now seemed like

  a distant dream. This brought with it feelings of melancholy, she missed her old family, her old friends... her old life. But as she continued, she was able to remove the emotional component from it, which was the foundation of what this magic was supposed to help with, self control.

  One evening, as she sat cross-legged on her bed, Hermione felt a

  sudden surge of clarity. She closed her eyes, focusing on the mental

  fortress she had been building. The walls were solid and impenetrable,

  the gates securely locked. Her mind was her own, protected and safe. She

  was sure this was just the initial shields, they wouldn’t hold up to a

  full-on attack, but a casual attempt at Legilimency would fail.

  One passage caught her attention. It spoke of the power of memory and

  the ability to access hidden truths through the practice of Occlumency.

  According to the book, skilled practitioners could unlock memories

  buried deep within their subconscious, revealing secrets that even they

  were unaware of. Repressed memories perhaps? Or was it referring to memories which hadn't formed into long-term memory?

  Wait, could it help show her how she came here? If she had repressed the memory, it could give her the answers she sought! This kindled an obsession within her, but she cared not, she needed answers.

  The process was exhausting, both mentally and physically. But

  Hermione's determination never wavered. She knew that the answers she

  sought were within her reach, and she would stop at nothing to uncover

  them.

  One night, as she sat in her room, her mind focused and her thoughts

  clear, Hermione felt a sudden shift. It was as if a door had opened

  within her mind, revealing a flood of memories that she had long

  forgotten.

  She saw herself in her previous life, sitting in her old study,

  surrounded by books as she worked on her thesis. The scene was so vivid, so real, that she could

  almost smell the musty scent of old paper. She watched as her past self,

  reached for a book, her fingers brushing lightly over its cover. Then there was pain, sharp and blinding.

  The memory shifted, and Hermione found herself in a dark,

  shadowy place. She could hear whispering voices, feel the chill of the

  air against her skin. She watched as her past self, navigated the

  darkness, her steps sure and steady.

  As the memory unfolded, Hermione felt a sense of unease. There was

  something ominous about this place, something that filled her with

  dread. But she couldn't look away. She had to see it through.

  The memory reached its climax, and Hermione saw herself standing

  before... something. The harder she looked the more intangible it became and yet it felt malevolent, but she could not run nor scream for help, and before panic set in, it spoke.

  "

  She snapped out her dream like state, her frame wrecked with cold sweats before she muttered "What the fuck was that?!"